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Was her vicious fiancé aboard? Gerik often used courier ships on his secret missions for the regent.
Zarifa sent up a silent prayer that he wasn’t on that ship. She’d tried so hard to lose him. The course she’d flown had been almost ridiculously intricate, making orbit at one world only to immediately blast into superspace headed for another. Her trip here to Market Station had taken more than a week longer than it would have by direct flight.
Still, she was only delaying the inevitable. Gerik Natalo would catch up to her sooner or later. They didn’t call him the Regent’s Fist for nothing. He served his father’s whims with fanatical devotion, and Umar Natalo wanted her back.
Zarifa’s right hand tightened on the hilt of the sword that hung at her hip. As she shifted her booted feet restlessly, a thin knife of agony stabbed her ribs. She stifled a hiss. The wound was almost healed, but the pain remained, a silent reminder of Gerik’s last attempt to bring her in.
Her new system had been worth every imperial she’d paid for it. Less than a week had passed since the bastard had driven his sword into her side. She’d have bled to death if not for the nanos that had accelerated her body’s healing. Yet she had no illusions: if her fiancé hadn’t been intent on taking her alive, she’d be a dead woman now. The Regent’s Fist was simply too powerful, too skilled. Too deadly.
She had to make sure she had a protector before he caught up to her again.
“Lady Selan?”
Zarifa whirled, damn near drawing on Casus before she managed to stay her hand. She slid the sword the inch back into its sheath and wiped the feral determination off her face. “Yes?”
The slaver gave her an oily smile, gaudy in his yellow silk waistcoat and green velvet jacket. A tradesman with pretensions, her father’s ghost whispered. Casus’s eyes flicked nervously to the white-knuckled grip she had on her sword hilt. She wondered how quickly he’d sell her out if he knew who she really was. He’d call the palace before I was halfway out the door.
Luckily, the image her nanos projected would keep him from recognizing her. Between that and her cover identity of slightly shady aristo courier, she should be relatively safe.
Unless Gerik showed up with a warrant for her arrest…
Casus sketched an elaborate bow. “The slave is ready for your consideration, milady.”
“Good. Show him in, please.” Zarifa squared her shoulders and braced her booted feet apart as the slaver turned to gesture at one of his men.
The thought of buying a slave set her teeth on edge. If she’d had her way, she’d have outlawed slavery years ago. If it was illegal to enslave imperial citizens, it should be just as unconstitutional to kidnap and collar Freeworlders. Unfortunately, the regent had ignored all her arguments. She suspected he was probably involved in the slave trade himself.
Umar did love his money.
And wouldn’t it be ironic if one of those slaves turned out to be her salvation? Too bad she couldn’t afford more of them. She’d be happier with a whole phalanx of werewolves to escort her on her mission. Unfortunately, buying the ship had left her funds so drained, one shifter was all she could afford.
Frowning, Zarifa used her thumb to twist the diamond ring that rode her right hand, a nervous habit formed in the last stressful month. The intricately engraved band felt cold on her finger, heavy with old debts and lost honor.
The door whispered open. Zarifa looked around just as one of the guards led the slave in on the end of a silver chain.
And she forgot everything else.
The shifter prowled between the overstuffed pseudo-Victorian furnishings, naked except for a gleaming black collar around his neck. One sweeping glance branded him on her senses: the hard, angular features, the broad, powerful curve of his chest, the ripple of brawny arms and legs. The swing of his heavy sex between his thighs…
She looked away, feeling her cheeks burn. Right into Casus’s amused, faintly contemptuous gaze.
Alarm jolted through her. I’m blowing my own cover. The jaded aristo she was pretending to be was not the kind of woman who’d blush at the sight of a big cock.
But my lover was nothing like that, a tiny voice protested.
Zarifa ignored it. She had a role to play.
She started toward the shifter with as much swagger as she could manage. He didn’t meet her stare, even when she stopped barely centimeters away.
Her eyes were on the level with his small, dark nipples. She looked down, along the rippled plane of his hard belly, deliberately forcing her gaze to his sex. Sweet Lady, how big would it be fully erect?
She ordered her nanosystem to cool her cheeks before they could heat again.
Zarifa looked up into the shifter’s face. His eyes still refused to meet hers, but she saw now they were the color of ancient coins, a bright gold that was not entirely human. His hair was a rich, deep sable that gleamed like fur, cut ruthlessly short, yet still showing a hint of curl. She could almost feel the smooth silk of it against her fingers.
God, she craved the touch of another human. Entombed in her fortress of fear, she hadn’t dared let anyone close. Especially a man.
Especially a man like this.
